Little Lords and Women of the Ring
by Adanwen
Summary: Lord of the Rings/Little Women crossover. Jo meets unexpected company in the snow one evening - the fellowship has gotten lost in Concord! Shenanigans and new friendships ensue. Done for pure fun and love for the characters.:3
1. Chapter 1

My brain alwa _ys comes_ up with crossovers of all the stories I love, so this seemed like only a matter of It's all done purely out of love for the characters and wishing to see them interact - I wrote this mostly for a friend and myself, so apologies if your favourite character is neglected - I dedicated a chapter to each March girl though.:) Sadly the Little Women archive is not very active, but maybe there are others lovers of these two great stories out there. Enjoy!:3

P.S.: For those interested, you can find the whole thing on tumblr, rebloggable and twice as natural, on tumblr (under the tag of the title).

Chapter 1 – Many Unexpected Meetings

Jo whistled a cheery tune, ignoring the pain in her stiff fingers. It was freezing outside, but she simply could not sit inside all day in front of the fire, like Meg. Even writing couldn't keep her from becoming restless eventually, and shovelling snow was just the right thing for her superfluous energy.

Looking up to the grand mansion on the other side of the hedge, she sighed. It was a pity Laurie was out in town today, she was sure that together they would have thought of a good way to make the dull winter afternoon bright, which seemed even duller for Marmee being away in Washington.

 _But I mustn't croak! I shall be cheery enough for both of us if he's gone, see if I won't!_ She encouraged herself, emphasising her determination by stomping the shovel on the ground. An avalanche from the roof promptly tested her new-found spirit.

"There, no one can complain about that!" She proudly judged her work a while later. There was a clean-swept path that led straight from the gate to the front door, and another from the back door to the back gate. "Now all we need is some more fire wood, I know there was hardly any left yesterday."

She marched out in direction of the little wood around the river, despite her fingers and the hem of her dress being frozen. Jo wasn't scared of the dark, although the shadows of twilight creeping between the branches like slender spider's legs tickled her imagination.

"If ever there was a right time for fairies and trolls, it would be now," she mumbled, her breath coming out in little puffs that her fancy turned into dragon's smoke at once.

She turned to go back rather hasty and stumbled over her own feet, nearly scaring herself out of her wits. "Josyphine March!" she scolded in her best impression of Aunt March. "Collect your senses along with the wood and get going!"

Doing her best to follow her own advice, she set out again, but couldn't help to look back when she heard a twig snap in the gloomy silence.

"Hello?" She called out bravely, though her knees were shaking. Moving through the rising mist, she thought she could make out the forms of a group of men walking towards her. Taking some more steps towards the edge of the wood, where it wasn't so dark yet, she looked back once more and beheld smaller shadows this time, like children.

"By Jove," she muttered. "Either I've completely lost my mind or these folks can actually change size. The girls at home won't believe a word, so I'd better wait and see what comes out of the forest. If I'm kidnapped by spirits, at least I'll have something to finish my fairy tales," she tried to reason.

Her teeth chattering by now, she stared hard into the shadows, until one of the figures stepped into the clearing, the others lagging behind indecisively. Jo could make out curly hair, a big scarf and cloak, and to her great surprise, bare, hairy feet. Deciding that it had to be a little boy (he was shorter than Amy), she boldly stepped forward and called out: "Hullo! Did you get lost?"

The boy started and stood hesitating for a moment, before making up his mind and running towards her. Staring up at her, he called back to the wood: "Merry, I found a girl!"

Jo sniffed and wrinkled her nose. "I found you first, you know." Something in the boy's surprised expression struck her as comical, and as if they had been friends all their lives, both began to laugh out loud at the same time.

"Pippin, are you crazy?" Another boy, looking similar to the first in a way that clearly betrayed kinship, joined them. "Don't go about talking to strangers, they might be dangerous!"

"I'm not half as dangerous as I'd like to be!" laughed Jo, being reminded of Meg in one of her motherly moods. "But what are you doing out so late, aren't your parents worrying?"

The second boy, who seemed a bit older than the first, gave her a bemused look. "Our parents are safely in The Shire and worry more about our younger siblings, I reckon. Besides they know we're out on important business with Frodo."

Jo nearly fell into another laughing fit at the strange name, but controlled herself, not wanting to offend anyone. "I've never heard a name like that. What are your names?" Her curiosity was kindled and had quite dispelled her nervous fear.

"I'm Merry Brandybuck and this is my cousin Pippin Took." The boy answered in an important tone, putting his thumbs into the pockets of his bright yellow waistcoat.

"Yes, and we got lost, even though Gandalf won't own up to it! Boromir's been declaring it since half an hour and then there was that avalanche on top of that, and everyone's been in a foul mood since that, so I ran ahead to look for some cheering up, and I found you!" Pippin burst out with much enthusiasm and without any pause, panting like a little engine after his speech.

Jo couldn't help but laugh this time, partly over the funny little boy, and partly over the other load of foreign sounding names.

"How many of you are there?" She wondered.

"There's nine of us!" He replied at once, though Merry began to look rather displeased over his chattering. "I don't know what's keeping them so long."

"They're probably trying to decide how to best punish you for spluttering out everything there is to know about us," Merry grumbled.

Jo was surprised at the boy's grumpiness and secrecy, but then again they probably were a long way from home and were very tired and cold. She would have invited the two boys back home on the spot, only she hadn't seen the others yet and nine seemed like a lot of people to stuff into their little home, even if they all were as small as these two. And what would Marmee say? Jo wished dearly that her mother was here right now, for she always knew what to do.

While she had been musing about this, Pippin had sped back to the edge of the forest, and was now striding back to her, with a smug smile on his face, and leading a man by his hand.

Jo's initial fear returned when she saw him – he looked like a bandit from one of the adventure novels she loved so much, except that he was carrying a sword instead of pistols. She considered running away, but either her curiosity or something in the man's face, which didn't fit the idea of a rogue at all, kept her rooted to the spot.

As they approached, she could hear Pippin blubbering happily. "...and Gandalf said we would find help in unlikely places, didn't he? I don't see any good of moping around in forests at night, when he said himself we were already discovered if there were any spies about, so what's the use of keeping away from folks? Look, here she is, you can't tell me she's an orc or anything."

Jo didn't know what an orc was, but it didn't sound very agreeable. The man looked at her with a grave air, studying her face. After some moments he spoke.

"I believe my young friend is right, though it was incautious of him." Here he gave a meaningful look to the culprit. "I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn, and I'd be much obliged if you told us the name of this place and how far from the Misty Mountains we are here. I don't understand how we can't find them on the horizon any more, we didn't wander so far..." The last sentence was spoken in open bewilderment, and he looked around, as if suspecting said mountains to come flying to his comfort.

"Jo March, daughter of Margaret March." Jo copied the stranger's manner of introduction, trying herself at a curtsy and failing as usual. "This is Concord, Massachusetts, but I never heard of any Misty Mountains in all of my life."

Aragorn gave her a confused look, but tried to smooth it over. "Maybe you could tell us where we can find shelter for the night? Is there a village near?"

"There's a whole city, though it's gotten dreadfully dark by now and I don't suppose you'll want to walk as far as that now. I don't know what Marmee would say if I showed up with you, but if the rest of you is as polite as you are, or as droll as this one, I know she couldn't disapprove much. She even might give you some good advice, if she were here, but Mr Laurence, our neighbour, might help you just the same." This was the best she could offer, and she really wanted to help in some way.

Aragorn gave her a curt nod and walked back into the mist of the forest, leaving Jo at a loss of what he thought of her offer.

"Did I say something wrong?" She thought out loud.

"Don't worry, he's always like that." Pippin reassured her, patting her skirt in a comforting manner.

"Man of few words. You'll get used to it." Merry added in a tone of life-long experience.

Jo pondered over this, when she saw the rest of the company coming towards them from the forest. She didn't know what she had expected, but she began to have second thoughts at once. This looked more like a travelling circus than anything else.

She didn't know what amazed her more – the bearded, small man carrying an axe, the unearthly looking slender bowman, or the old man, who looked decidedly like a wizard, no matter how she tried to tell herself that that was impossible.

"Aragorn tells me we got offered shelter for the night by a spirited young lady." The old man addressed her in a gruff voice, leaning heavily on his walking stick.

Jo didn't know what confused her more – the fact that she had apparently offered shelter for the night without being aware of it or being called a lady. She was glad it had been "spirited" and not "pretty", however.

"That must be so then, I guess." She brought out, flapping her arms in a helpless way. She pushed the thought of Meg's inevitable scolding to the back of her mind and made a half-grand, half-awkward gesture for them to follow her back to the house.

Pippin was by her side in a moment, and followed immediately by Merry on her other side (something she got used to very fast in the next days).

"Do you live in a big house?" Came from her left.

"Is it above ground?" At once from her right.

"It's neither very big, nor rich, but it's home. Bless you, and I should hope it was above ground, we don't live in caves!" Jo felt rather strange at being beset thus, it made her feel as if there were two Amys around her.

She didn't see the look of foreboding that passed between the two cousins, but they weren't quenched that easily and continued to question her right away.

"How many stores are there?"

"How many people are there?"

"What is the food like?"

These and many other questions followed her all the way back home, when she was happy to leave the chattering, little boys and the rest waiting on the porch, telling them to come in only after she called them.

"Meg! You'll never believe what happened to me!" She found herself getting excited again, after being strangely lulled by the boys' talk of home comforts for a quarter of an hour.

Meg, who sat sewing in the rocking chair, snubbed her for shouting and not taking her boots off, but didn't seem very impressed with her tale.

"Jo, your fancies are all fine and lovely in the stories you write, but I thought you had grown out of telling tales by now." The venerable seventeen-year-old complained with a maternal air.

"I'm not telling tales!" Jo protested, stomping her foot, and looking every bit as if she were.

Meg only replied by raising her eyebrows in a disapproving fashion, and sighed as Jo stormed off, to the garret as she thought. But before she had finished another stitch, she was back, and not alone either.

Highly alarmed, Meg rose out of the rocking chair like a Jack-in-the-box, her sewing sinking from her hands. There was definitely something very intimidating about the old man, who had followed Jo into the parlour, though she couldn't quite put her finger on it. He certainly was dressed in the most unusual way she had ever seen, with a blue, pointy hat that might have served her well in her role as a witch in last year's Christmas play, as her bewildered mind observed in a queer, distanced voice. Despite his fantastic clothing and Father Christmas beard, he looked anything but ridiculous, on the contrary, Meg felt rather frightened of the pair of blue eyes staring at her from beneath the bristling eyebrows.

"Gandalf the Grey, at your service, Madam." He introduced himself, bowing. Meg found herself curtseying before she wondered at his odd manners, but they went along well with his outlandish looks.

"We are poor wanderers, who have lost their path in the night, and your sister, as I understand, was so good as to offer us a temporary lodging." He continued, his eyes sparkling as if with merriment.

"We?" Meg echoed faintly, not knowing what part of that speech she found more worrying.

"Me and my company of eight friends." Gandalf explained. "From what I've seen we must appear very strange to you indeed, but I assure you, we're honourable folk." He gave a little nod after that and both Jo and Meg believed him at once, without knowing why.

"I'll bring the rest." Jo proposed, after offering Gandalf a seat, and leaving Meg to sink back into her chair with a look that clearly betrayed how much she wished their mother back at that moment.

"All right, Peggie's had the worst of it now, I hope. You can come in and introduce yourselves, but try to be quiet, we still have to break the news to the children upstairs." She implored, which caused, of course, a general uproar.

Merry and Pippin ran in at once, followed by a tall man, who tried to restrain them, and whom Jo would have proclaimed to be unable to fit through their front door, if asked, judging by the size of his shoulders. The small, bearded man entered next, making enough noise for four; the slender bowman by his side, complaining in a strange tongue. Aragorn and two other small boys were silent alone, though the blonde boy shot her a decidedly suspicious look, which she thought rather ungrateful under the circumstances.

The confusion was brought to perfection by Hannah rushing in from the kitchen after their introductions and exclaiming at the top of her lungs "Bless us!" three or four times, before she could be brought round to listen to any sort of explanation, which of course brought Amy and Beth running downstairs, barefoot and in nightgowns, wondering whether they had been transported into a fairytale.

Beth took a look at the assembled group of men and fled back upstairs with a frightened "Oh!", but Amy became quite wild with excitement and didn't know at whom to stare most or ask questions to, and deciding to draw them all on the spot.

Jo rushed up to comfort Beth, while Meg tried to calm down Amy with tea and honey. In the meantime, the visitors were left to wonder at the strange interior of the house, which was even more unusual than its exterior to them.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say we're not in Middle Earth any more." Aragorn whispered to Gandalf, so as not to disturb the hobbits by the extend of their detour. These looked happy enough at the moment though, not giving much rise to worrying, since Merry and Pippin were testing the flexibility of the sofa by jumping up and down on it, Sam was studying the window-sill full of flowers with professional interest, and Frodo had just discovered the basket full of kittens.

"Humph!" Was all Gandalf replied, not feeling like sharing his doubts at the moment.

"I'm so sorry about the chaos," Jo apologised, wringing her hands and running her hands through her short hair alternatively. "But it's rather typical for the house, so you might as well get used to it." She finished with a laugh.

This put everyone at their ease, and after a frugal dinner (in which the guests added their supplies to those of the Marches), they were bidden to take their rest in the parlour, since no upstairs room would hold them or provide beds enough. The members of the company chose their lodgings according to their taste and made the best of the small amount of pillows and blankets: The hobbits lay in a warm nest, bundled up in a heap on the sofa; Gandalf sat in the rocking chair, occasionally rocking a bit to and fro or muttering something; Aragorn and Boromir had chosen the carpet in the middle of the room to spread their cloaks on; Gimli had lain down on the rug in front of the fire place, snoring into the embers (it was a miracle his beard didn't catch fire); while Legolas nearly gave Jo a heart attack when she came down in the middle of the night for a glass of water, and found him half lying, half perched, with open eyes, on top of the big china cupboard.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 – Pedestals and Downfalls

"I feel like I should write to Marmee about the strangers, but it seems too surreal, I'm afraid she wouldn't believe me and only worry about the state of my mind." Meg said, several days later, while poring over their mother's last letter from Washington, which she meant to answer that morning.

"How can you still call them strangers?" Jo protested from the depths of a blanket pile, for she had caught a cold in the chill weather. "With Sam cooking for us every day and everyone else behaving like our long lost brothers." It was true that Sam had found a permanent spot in their kitchen, after a power struggle with Hannah, who had only allowed him shared access to her domain after he had proven his superior skills by producing a delicious dinner for the whole company and March family all on his own, and in record time as well.

"Well, they can't stay at the Laurences forever." Meg retorted, as if that would finish the debate. It was true that the "merry men", as Jo called them, were now lodged at the great house across the fence. Being quite overwhelmed by the ravenous appetite of the little boys, Jo had sought help in Laurie the day after their arrival. Laughing outright at Jo's story, he still consented to go and see the company, having to bear Jo's laughter in turn at his incredulous face. After the first shock he was eager enough to make everyone's acquaintance and he quickly saw what Jo meant – the old house couldn't possibly hold such a large and strange party for long, so he proposed to move everyone over at once, without waiting to put the question to his grandfather. This latter point was exactly what made Jo hesitate to accept the gracious offer, even though it was more than obvious how relieved she was at it.

"Don't worry about grandpa, leave him to me. I'm sure he won't object to have some more life in the silent, old house, and that fellow, Mr Gandalf, he seems honourable. I'm sure they'd get along. Only if Beth could vouchsafe for all of them, it would make things much easier, true enough." He added the last bit as an afterthought, trying not to betray how unsure he was of his grandfather's hospitality in this case.

"Oh, I'm sure she would if she knew them, but I couldn't persuade her to come down and see them yet!" Jo groaned, being reminded of another problem.

Taking a look at the assembly (half of them being very loud, and the other half looking calm but very unusual), Laurie could very well understand Beth's feelings.

"Never mind then. I'll manage." He consoled Jo, squaring his shoulders once and then starting to treat the whole thing as a joke from that moment onward.

There was a little row between Mr Laurence and him afterwards, but Laurie "managed" in the end, and after a long, mysterious talk with Gandalf (Laurie was sent away but ere long he could hear muffled laughter and smell pipe smoke), Mr Laurence acquiesced to let the company stay.

"I wish they could, though." Jo sniffed at Meg's comment, which had less to do with her attachment than her running nose. "Things have gotten much jollier and a thousand times more interesting since they arrived – they are just what we needed after that worry about father!"

"If you ask me, they are more trouble than fun, and they'll bring us more trouble yet, no doubt." Was Meg's withering reply, as she tried to concentrate on writing a reply to her mother, but was continually disturbed by pearls of laughter and shouting from the garden. "I _wish_ they were more quiet in any case."

"Calm down, I'll tell them." Jo appeased her sister, getting out of the blanket pile to quickly change into thick layers of cloaks and shawls. Stepping out into the cold, she easily spotted the cause of the clamour in the snowball fight between the little boys and the taller members of the company, minus Gandalf.

"BE QUIET!" She shouted to the group, causing Meg inside to wince and leave a huge ink stain on a newly finished sentence.

Seeing her mission as accomplished, Jo went on to see what Amy, who was sitting on a bench a bit off, was doing. She was completely covered in her enormous blue winter coat and wool bonnet, contrasting strongly with her little, red hands and nose, the only parts left to the mercy of the chilling November wind. As she approached, Jo saw why she had taken off her gloves – she was sketching. Meaning to ask her for a picture of the whole company, lest they should depart without her having anything to remember them by, Jo greeted her sister, but was surprised to find her colour up and hastily cover her sketchbook with her arms.

"What's the matter?" She inquired, walking round her, so as to catch a glimpse of her sketch.

Managing to extricate the sketchbook from her after a long and hard fight, she laughed out loud in amazement. "Why, they're all of Legolas! I knew you had taken a fancy to him!"

"Give it back!" Amy shouted, wrestling the sketchbook back from Jo. Settling the sheets and her dress, she continued in the most prim manner. "You needn't laugh, he's simply the most stratifying to draw."

"So I should think!" Jo agreed, after having laughed at her sister's archaeological assessment of the young man – or young-looking, at least. Sometimes there was something eerily primeval about him. "But I thought you wanted to draw all of them!"

Amy sniffed with the superior air of an artist who knew their métier. "Maybe later on. I don't know if I want to do _all_ of them. Some of them are positively aggratating."

Jo knew what she meant – Gimli's table manners had even shocked her at times, and she knew that Amy despised Aragorn for his dirty and worn clothing and ragged appearance. She had found Boromir romantic enough in the beginning, until she had realised how domestic he was. Chopping wood, setting the table, and, worst of all, offering to put on her bonnet, was not consistent with her ideal of the bearing of a true aristocrat (even though she didn't know how to spell the word). She got along well enough with the little boys when she forgot to play the young lady, but spent more and more time trailing after Legolas wherever he went, as Jo had noticed.

"You shouldn't _aggravate_ him by following him around all the time, he'll find it annoying." Jo warned and corrected her at the same time.

"Legolas knows much better than that! He never told me to "run along" or any of the sort!" Amy defended herself and her object of admiration in a high-pitched tone.

It was true that Legolas didn't seem to be bothered by her, but the truth was that he hardly paid her any attention at all. It was impossible to say whether ignoring her came naturally to him or whether it cost him as much as Meg trying to concentrate on her letter, since his face was a perfect blank most of the time – very fascinating to draw, but hard to read, especially for little Amy, who had no more experience with elves than from the vague remembrance of fairy stories.

Jo only shook her head at the stout remonstrance, but didn't dwell long on her sister's infatuation. "Let her fill her sketchbook with him, I'll be sure to get a company sketch out of her when she's tired of long tresses and piercing blue eyes." She thought.

But Jo was mistaken in supposing Amy fickle in this instance. Her obsession did not subside but increase, so much so that everyone noticed it and started to wish that Legolas would put a stop to it soon. Meg talked first to Amy and then to Laurie, asking him to distract her, but even he found it difficult to make her forget about archery, which she had taken a sudden interest in, and long golden locks, in this case, not her own.

"It's quite hopeless." Laurie observed to Jo, after coming back from a snow ride with the afflicted lady. "You'd better have them marry and be done with it."

Jo laughed with Laurie, but Meg, who was sewing in the corner, put on a sober face. "I'm afraid I can't think too highly of this Legolas, if he doesn't know when to put everyone at rest. It's very disconcerting."

"Come, don't be too hard on the fellow." Laurie replied, warming his hands by the fire. "I haven't spent as much time with him as Amy, but as magnificent as his eye sight may be, he doesn't seem to be too observant when it comes to much subtler things than an apple on a pole a 160 feet away."

Meg continued to grumble, but Jo laughed it off once more. "I don't even see why all of you have to make such a fuss about it. They'll be off in time any way, more's the pity. But that will definitely put a stop to this silliness for good, if nothing else does."

Now, it must be said that Laurie's assessment of Legolas' powers of observation wasn't quite justified – the elf prince was very well aware of Amy herself and her apparent attachment to him, but being an elf and not particularly acquainted with humans, except for the few stiff, formal meetings with representatives from Dale and the rangers of the north (who behaved more elvish than he knew), -let alone little girls-, he didn't feel that there was any need of doing anything about it.

However, even elves make mistakes, and Legolas, as well as everyone else, soon realised this. It was a particularly foggy and unpleasant day at the end of November, and most people chose to spend it inside. Beth said that she never had seen such empty streets and shops, as she returned from one of her chores, making straight for her bedroom, determined to dedicate the rest of the day to her infirm dolls. It was no surprise then that Jo found it perfectly amazing to find Amy sitting in front of the main door, struggling to put on her boots, when usually it was she who complained the most about inclement weather and was relieved about every excuse to stay inside.

"What got into _you_?" Jo demanded at once, eyes straying from Amy's best sky-coloured bonnet to the hem of her best frock.

Amy's uncharacteristic behaviour explained itself with the first word she uttered: "Legolas has gone into the forest to hunt, and he promised me that I could come with him the next time!"

"Hunt?" Jo echoed in amusement. "What's he after, squirrels?"

But she soon realised that this was no laughing matter to Amy, as she continued to put on her winter clothes and looked very grave while plucking cat hairs from her cloak.

"Look, you can't go out," Jo started, trying to give her voice some authority. "it's too cold and damp, and you can barely see! I don't think even he can cut through this fog with his magnificent eyes. Besides Marmee wouldn't like it, it's too dangerous."

"It won't be dangerous, Legolas will look after me." Amy explained, deeming this quite enough to flatten any argument. And without giving Jo another glance to spare, she opened the door and marched out into the fog.

Jo stared after her for a while, rooted to the spot and debating whether to run after her. Then her eyes fell on the window and she decided that it would be impossible for Amy to stay out for long any way, so she returned to her books.

Meanwhile, Amy was finding it rather hard to find her way, even with the side of the house to her right. Groping her way around it, the only sound the cracking of her boots on the frozen grass, she finally managed to find Legolas assorting his bow and arrows near the pile of fire wood.

"Here I am!" She proclaimed loudly as she reached him, getting a calm smile from him in return. She had found his lack of talk disconcerting at first, but had been assured soon by Merry that this was quite normal and that she would get used to it.

Legolas was soon ready to head off and Amy followed him with some respectful distance. She started to feel a bit apprehensive when they entered the forest, where the darkness seemed to stem from more than just the thick fog. What was more frustrating though, was that Legolas chose an old oak tree as vantage point. Now, Legolas was neither irresponsible nor careless, and he told Amy quite clearly and firmly to stay where she was. Nevertheless, Amy sometimes had more faith in her physical abilities than was reasonable, especially when she had a strong motive. And as she had watched Jo climb trees ever since she could think, she deemed that quite enough experience and started at once to try and climb after him.

Being very sensitive of ear as well as of eye, Legolas soon heard her efforts. Looking down, he sharply called "Daro!", falling into his mother tongue by surprise.

Amy was even more surprised, however, so much so that she let go of the two branches she had clung to, and fell with a cry. The dreaded thud didn't follow though, as Legolas quickly jumped down in two leaps. The mystery was solved on the spot, as he found Aragorn standing by the foot of the tree, and a very shocked looking Amy with twigs in her hair, lying in his arms.

"I didn't hear you follow us!" Was Legolas' first thought that sailed right out of his mouth without his intention.

"I didn't." Aragorn calmly stated, registering in his head that at any other time it would have been greatly amusing to have caught his friend so off his guard. "I've been in the woods since morning." Legolas continued to stare at him, so he elaborated a bit more: "Luckily this young lady's cloak stands off very much, even in this fog, or otherwise I wouldn't have detected you."

Legolas nodded curtly and felt his friend's silent admonition. "Hannon le."

Aragorn was about to answer, but was stopped by Amy having so far recovered from the first shock as to start crying, so all talk was suspended until they had brought her back home, assuring the scared elder sisters that there were no injuries, except a little scratch on the cheek. Jo fell into a full swing of self-reproach and kept groaning that she hadn't been able to take in a single word of the book she had tried to read ever since Amy left, while Meg was so occupied in her fluttering haste to take care of Amy, that she forgot to apply an "I told you so!" to the general group of onlookers and helpers, and didn't think of it until very much later.

Not that anyone needed to be reminded – Legolas apologised so earnestly to her and Jo, that she forgave him on the spot, and even accepted his offer to help her comfort her youngest sister. He further showed his remorse by buying Amy a new frock, better than the one she had worn, which had received a fatal tear in her fall. This revived Amy's spirit more than any other medicine, and she listened to his story of how the shopkeeper almost had refused to take his gold in payment, with the greatest rapture. In spite of these sympathies though, it soon became quite obvious that a change had taken place – instead of revelling in the attention she finally received from Legolas, she suddenly started to request Aragorn's help with her lessons (though what made her think that he might have any proficiency in Latin was a mystery to everyone else) and to ask his advice in almost everything she did.

When Meg asked her about this, Amy solemnly swore that she had learned her lesson now, and it was true that she didn't follow Aragorn into the woods nor searched his things, as she had done with Legolas. Jo, however, proclaimed that it made little difference to her, since she saw no merit in having to listen to Amy sighing about grey eyes instead of blue ones.

"The worst thing," she said to Meg one day, shortly after these events, "is that she's gone and learned all of his ancestry by heart, way back to a fellow called Isildur, who was, apparently, some sort of king. She tried to repeat the whole litany to me earlier, but I stopped her by suddenly shouting "There's Aragorn in the garden, observing your bower!". She sped away like lightning, I tell you."

Meg laughed along with Jo, but sobered up quickly, as Beth entered the room. "That was wicked of you Jo, to trick her like that."

"Maybe," Jo admitted with a careless flourish of her hand, "But you would have done something equally desperate, if someone had started to recite to you: "Aragorn, son of Arathorn, son of Arabesque, son of Aragog..."

At which point Meg seriously entreated her to stop the demonstration, and everyone fell into loud laughter again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 – Heart Logic**

Throughout all this, Beth had refused to mingle with the strangers. Jo had tried to introduce them to her one by one, a few days after they had arrived and she thought the first shock of finding them in the parlour must have subsided. As well-meant as this had been, she realised in hindsight that it had not been her wisest move to start the introduction with Gimli, because Beth's determination to hide herself from them afterwards was even more pronounced than before. For some reason Jo started to consider asking Gandalf for help, but her pride forbade it – she was, after all, Beth's confidant and monitor, and if she couldn't find a way to soften her to the company, then no one could. She was not too proud, however, to discuss all these thoughts with Laurie, who always took great interest in cheering up Beth and helping her with her shyness.

"You started it all wrong," he remonstrated for the third time, making Jo tap her foot impatiently, as they sat in his room, planning a new strategy. "You can't force them on her, you have to make her want to come to them."

"How do you know?" Jo demanded at once, being struck by the indisputable logic of this.

"I'd be the same." Laurie simply said, looking up at her with big, honest eyes.

Jo stared at him for a moment, thinking of the first times they had met, and wondering what had made him want to "come to them". Then a mischievous glow lighted up her eyes, and she said: "But I think me stumbling over you at the Gardiner's ball still had a helpful effect."

They both laughed heartily at the memory, before going back to business. Soon, they had devised a plan, which, if it wasn't exactly fool-proof, as Jo thought when she went home, was at least a great credit to them.

The next day, Phase 1 of Operation House Mouse began. Jo casually strolled into the parlour, where Beth sat playing with her kittens on the sofa, and flung herself into an empty arm-chair with such an air of someone who had something very important to say, that Beth stared at her for half a minute without blinking. But Jo made no signs of wishing to speak to her, or, in fact, of even having noticed her presence. She was staring up at the ceiling and examining the pattern of the wood with a look as if she had never seen anything quite as interesting. Curiosity soon taking over, Beth quietly asked: "Is there any news, Jo?"

"Oh no," Jo waved off, head still dangling from the armrest and staring upward. "Nothing to bother you."

"What is it?" Beth implored at once, forgetting to restrain her kittens, and having one of them undo her sewing at once. "Has something happened? Is it father?"

Knowing she had her fullest attention now that she was worried, and not wanting to make her fret any more about their father, Jo got into a sitting position so fast that she nearly toppled over the side of the arm-chair. Having regained her balance, she resumed her languid air, thereby displaying a strange inconsistency of behaviour and making Beth even more curious.

"It's just that Boromir has lost his handkerchief, and he's ever so sorry, because it was a gift of his mother's, you see." She shot a side-glance at Beth. "But as I said, it's nothing to bother you with, since you won't see any of them."

Beth looked at her with one of her solemn stares, which always made Jo think that maybe her sister was a time-traveller and was looking back on hundreds of years of experience just now.

"I could make him a new one." She stated after another moment. "Though of course, it won't be half as good as the one from his mother."

Jo punched the air internally, thinking "That's my Beth!", and got out of the arm-chair with another sudden change of mood.

"Oh, I'm sure he'll love it, Bethy!" She cried, when Meg came wandering into the room, replacing the flowers on the window sills with new ones.

"Who will love what?" She inquired with a distracted air.

"Boromir has lost his handkerchief and Beth will make a new one for him." Jo proclaimed proudly, making Beth blush at once and doubt any ability at sewing that she had ever possessed, while Meg, to Jo's disappointment, didn't seem to see the brilliancy in this, but instead frowned down on her.

"Why? There's a whole stack of new ones in Marmee's closet." She put in practically.

"It's got to replace the one from his mother!" Jo shouted angrily, making both Meg and Beth jump. "And besides, he's homesick and could do with some sympathy, thank you very much!"

Then she stomped out of the room, very much aware of her and Lauries's blunder in logic. They had been so proud to come up with the idea to really steal Boromir's handkerchief (whether it was from his mother was as unknown to them as whether that lady had ever touched a needle) instead of sharing the plan with him, because, for some reason, both had had doubts as to whether he'd be compliant in a scheme that involved lying to a child. Why did Meg have to be so unhelpful?

"Do I have to talk to him?" A frightened Beth asked of Meg meanwhile. Actually giving him the handkerchief had never occurred to her until now.

"I think so." Meg replied, her eyes and mind still on Jo's odd outburst and wondering why she had talked of Boromir as if he were a lonely five-year-old. "But only to take his thanks, dear." She added, as she saw the growing look of horror on Beth's face.

From then on Beth worked very hard on a new handkerchief, which she decided should bear the initials "BB", since Jo had told her that he had no surname, and two initials of her first name would be much nicer to her than just one, as Beth reasoned. Jo daily fed her motivation, which sometimes slacked dramatically at the prospect of having to present her gift in the end; telling her how Boromir missed his handkerchief and other highly sympathetic stories about him, for example how he had saved the hobbits (which was how the small boys called themselves, as she had found out) from a snowy death, or teaching them how to ride a pony.

Boromir himself was left oblivious of all these preparations in his favour, until the final day of the secret operation. He had noticed the disappearance of his handkerchief, but hadn't given it too much thought, assigning it to a prank of Merry and Pippin. He had not even mentioned it to anyone else, which caused a deep crease to appear between his eyebrows when Jo summoned him to tell him of Beth's present one day.

Jo and Laurie had debated for a long time in whom to interest Beth at first, since he would determine her attitude on the others (as the back-fired Gimli experiment clearly told them). Jo had proposed Frodo at once, being the most quiet and gentle-looking of the hobbits (and sometimes eerily reminding her of Beth, actually, as she realised all of a sudden), but Laurie had continued to look thoughtful.

"It does seem logical," he said slowly, after her indignant inquiry, "but maybe they're a bit too alike."

Jo demanded the meaning of this, mystified at her friend's sudden insight into the psychology of her sister. "It couldn't have been any worse if I had asked Gandalf, after all," she thought to herself grumpily.

"Well, if they both just sit there, staring at each other, it won't be much use to us, will it?" Laurie explained. "We need someone to draw her out a bit."

"How come you know all this stuff about introverts?" Jo couldn't help but to burst out.

The corners of his mouth were twitching suspiciously, but he kept a perfectly straight face as he replied: "Well, it helps being one yourself, you know."

So after a while of observing the company, they had settled on Boromir, making Jo count on her fingers, as if listing ingredients: "If we get her on good terms with him, that'll include Merry and Pippin soon enough, and then Frodo and Sam will follow in no time, after which we can slowly add Aragorn and Legolas, they're polite enough, then Gandalf, if he's not in a grouchy mood, and with all those people, she won't even notice Gimli any more, so it'll be easy!"

Laurie laughed at her optimism, but didn't contradict her. On the final day, which would be, by agreement, the day on which Beth finished the handkerchief; Laurie would station himself near the parlour, in case of any emergency. To Jo's question of why he didn't want to join the fun, he replied wisely that it would be no good to have "too many elephants spoil the porcelain.".

Boromir himself was left oblivious of all these preparations in his favour, until the final day of the secret operation. He had noticed the disappearance of his handkerchief, but hadn't given it too much thought, assigning it to a prank of Merry and Pippin. He had not even mentioned it to anyone else, which caused a deep crease to appear between his eyebrows when Jo summoned him to tell him of Beth's present one day.

Jo had gotten so excited about it all, that she couldn't wait for the culmination of it. The minute Beth held up her just finished work, she rushed out of the parlour and marched straight up to Boromir, who was playing chess with Aragorn at the table, as if carrying an urgent, military dispatch for him.

With the mysterious announcement that she had to talk to him, she stalked off, waiting for him to follow her beneath the stairs. Impatiently listening to his declaration that he never liked chess any way, which might have something to do with Aragorn's playing skills bearing an uncanny resemblance to those of his brother; Jo finally saw him appear in the dimly lighted corridor.

"How can I be of help?" He asked politely, though slightly wondering why she was standing beneath the stairs in the dark and looking as if she were about to embark on a dangerous mission into enemy territory.

"I'll tell you how." She started a bit too rash, even to her own ears. "I mean, I, we, need your help with my sister Beth."

Before he could ask any further questions, she had started a long-winded explanation of the plan, occasionally confusing him with random side-notes of trivia, but in general conferring the situation very well to him. He could sense that she was very nervous about this and apparently cared a great deal about including Beth, although she tried to look as if she were perfectly in command of her feelings.

This was what made him assent, far more than any of Jo's assurances of their eternal gratitude and the prospect of a triumphal dinner in case of success.

"So I take it you took my handkerchief, huh?" He asked with a twinkle in his eyes, before Jo ushered him into the parlour, causing her to open her eyes wide in shock, and to stumble over the carpet in consequence.

This was completely unnoticed by Beth, who had done inspecting her handkerchief doubtfully, and had taken to her kittens instead. At the opening of the door, she looked up, fully expecting Jo to walk back in, but someone very different crossed the threshold instead.

Beth gasped; her hand, raised to pet one of her kittens, hovering in mid-air. The man who had just walked in looked like a giant to her, his heavy cloak making him appear even larger. She then noticed Jo's head bobbing up and down behind the broad shoulders, her sister's typical grin opposing the noble mien of the stranger in an almost comical way. At once she received a second shock, though, as it dawned on her that this must be Boromir to collect his handkerchief. For some reason she had imagined him to be one of the small boys she had caught a fleeting glimpse of on the day of the company's arrival (Jo's style of narration might have had something to do with it), though now it seemed utterly absurd to her – none of them could have ploughed a way for the rest of the company through towering snow drifts, obviously. Being embarrassed at her faulty logic did nothing to melt her out of her paralysed state, so Jo thought it adequate to help her on a bit.

"Look, Bethy! I brought Boromir at once, so he can be relieved out of his handkerchief-less state at once, he's so happy!"

Beth felt like laughing in a panicked sort of way, though all that escaped her was a pleading look, before she remembered that it probably wasn't good manners to fall into hysterics in front of guests.

Boromir winced at Jo's attempts to lighten the mood and then proceeded to take a deep bow in front of Beth, while Jo brandished an imaginary hat and twisted a likewise imaginary moustache. "May I introduce – Boromir of Gondor, son of Denethor, Captain of the White Tower." She relished in the foreign names and titles as if she had invented them for one of her stories. "And this is my little Beth!"

For a moment Beth felt ridiculous, because her name seemed small and insignificant next to such a grand, head-dizzying one, but then she scolded herself for it. She _was_ only little Beth after all.

"Your sister told me a great deal about you, Lady Beth. I'm honoured to meet you." His smile was warm and genuine, and only deepened when his gaze fell on the meowing balls of fur in Beth's hands and lap.

He took a seat in the arm-chair next to the sofa, apparently not at all put out by Beth's continued silent stare. Jo wasn't exactly helping her to overcome her bashfulness by standing in front of the fireside and rubbing her hands in perfect glee.

"We used to tend to stray kittens as children," Boromir commented jovially (though a good deal gentler than his usual full voice, as Jo noticed), arranging his sitting position so as to find comfort in the unusually soft seating.

"We?" Beth echoed shyly, trying to hide herself, though much too big for either pillow or kittens to serve as a cover.

"My little brother and I." Boromir clarified, smiling fondly at the memory.

"You have a little brother?" Beth felt very stupid for sounding like Aunt Marches parrot, but she hoped that repeating things he said as questions was a little less worse than not saying anything at all.

"Yes. His name is Faramir." Boromir answered, being determined to make Beth forget her shyness. Jo had warned him of course, but he had been unfazed. His brother had suffered a lot from having to meet new people as a child and in many moments Boromir had thought painfully of how their mother would have found it easy to comfort her youngest son. Their father had been no help at all, on the contrary, his stern looks and warnings of not to be impolite had intimidated Faramir even more. So Boromir had done as best as he could, staying always close to his brother, holding his hand, and distracting him in any way possible. Usually talking about something either new and exciting or familiar did the trick, but since he didn't know this young lady as well as his brother, it wasn't that simple. Also the fact that she was obviously afraid of him was a bit of a hindrance, but Boromir was no one to shy away from a challenge, especially if it was about making someone feel safe.

"He is five years younger than me, but a great deal cleverer, I dare say. He used to help me with my lessons, in fact." He continued.

"Oh!" exclaimed Beth, already beginning to forget about handkerchiefs and shyness. "I wish he was here, I'm sure he could help me with mathematics!"

"Well, I'm afraid he never managed to help me into a fit state concerning those, but that doesn't have to mean anything, since I'm a hopeless case." Boromir told her in the happiest manner.

"No, I'm sure you're not as bad as me." Beth told him earnestly, giving him her wise look. "But certainly you're very good at other things." She added, feeling as if she should try to cheer him up for his lacking skills in this awful subject.

Boromir laughed, thanked her for the compliment, and soon drifted off into a tangent about not really being good at anything but making his brother laugh and getting him to eat his broccoli, causing Beth at once to undertake the radical resolution of never again refusing the offensive vegetable and to eat her share for evermore.

All the while Jo had watched them from the fireplace, her head darting from one to the other in a rather slow tennis match, though certainly nothing short of a miraculous one. She almost felt insulted by Beth's apparent lack of need for her support, and the fact that both apparently had completely forgotten about the handkerchief, which had been her own idea, after all, after hours of strategic planning.

After what seemed hours to Jo, she couldn't stand it any longer and proposed angrily that Beth give him the gift already. To her satisfaction he coloured up at this, trying to cover up his seeming unconcern about his lost property with fervent enthusiasm. Beth mumbled inarticulate words into her pillow and kittens at his compliments, feeling embarrassed at having forgotten to present the reason for which he was here.

Announcing dramatically that she'd help with dinner, Jo left the room in a sort of tragicomic huff, passing a very surprised looking Laurie at the door. After peeping into the parlour and then following his fellow-accomplice into the kitchen, he slowly managed to weedle out of her a report of what had happened. To Jo's annoyance he seemed extremely pleased by this and started planning the next meeting at once. But Jo said she had had enough of secret missions, and any way, Beth should be given a break first.

What astonished both over the course of the next weeks though, was that Beth did not seem to be in need of a break at all. Her friendship with Boromir grew quickly and soon she could be seen traipsing over to the Laurence mansion, clinging dearly to his arm, but with a determined look on her little face, to meet new members of the company in the soothing presence of her old friend Mr Laurence, or to play the piano again, which she had sorely missed these days. Jo couldn't help feeling immensely proud of "her girl" (and of herself), but sometimes she was still found moping in a corner, or otherwise squinting intensely at Boromir's back of the head, as if muttering silent incantations against him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 – Hobbit Habits**

Time was moving on, with the company making no signs of moving on as well. Beth would tell the girls the little that Mr Laurence confided in her of his long talks with Gandalf, but none of them could really make anything of it. It was still a mystery where they had come from in the first place, so it was hard to think of a way to send them back there. As much as everyone was enjoying the new acquaintances, some of them were getting steadily more restless, in a way which suggested something more than just homesickness. Frodo especially seemed to withdraw more and more, as if afraid of infecting them with a dangerous illness. Meg sometimes spotted him and Gandalf sitting together in the conservatory of the Laurence's, where she would often wander, talking in whispers and more than once she heard Gandalf telling him not to worry. Meg wondered at this, but devised that it was none of her business, so she tried to put it off her mind.

She still felt bad about not telling their mother of the strange tidings from home and was longing for the slightest excuse to send her an already written letter, which lay securely locked in her desk. But Jo, Beth, and Amy all thought it advisable not to tell her yet – Jo said it would be a delightful surprise to cheer her up when she came back, and that this thought kept her from getting too gloomy at her absence; Beth worried that it would make her leave father for their sakes; and Amy rather hoped that she'd arrive when they would all be gone already, so no one would tell her about her silly behaviour concerning Legolas.

So Meg consented; waiting for the day on which they would all implore her to write to her at once. But then something happened which pushed that possibility even further away, and evenn completely off her mind for some time. Father had had a relapse and none of them knew in how much danger he really was, but all feared the worst. Their mother had clearly tried to sound comforting in her letter, but Meg could read her fear between the lines. Wishing more than ever to be able to talk to her face to face, she tried her best to console the girls, but felt that she had neither enough calm nor belief in her own abilities to succeed much. At this difficult time of waiting and dreading any of them would have given much for a distraction, be it ever so small.

Meg haunted the conservatory more often than ever to collect flowers as a cheering up for everyone - it seemed to have little enough effect, but she didn't want to admit it; she needed the feeling of being able to do something. One evening, her arms full of white peonies, she nearly stumbled over Sam and Frodo, hidden in a corner between the jade plant and the roses.

"Oh!" She exclaimed, hastily collecting the flowers that had fallen from her grip. "I'm so sorry, I didn't see you!"

"'S no matter," Sam replied hastily, helping her with the flowers. "We were just, ah, admiring the roses."

It couldn't be plainer that they had been talking about something very important, and Meg was sure that it was the same important something that kept Gandalf muttering words of comfort to Frodo. She threw a quick glance at him and thought he looked dejected.

"How is your father, Miss March? I hope he recovers soon." Frodo put in politely, still refusing to call them by their first names. Jo said she found it sweet, but Meg had an inkling that it might have to do something with his trying to keep a distance between them.

"Thank you. Still the same, I'm afraid though." Meg replied. "At least, judging from Mar-, err, mother's last letter. I hope you left your parents in good health?" She added on impulse, not really knowing why she said that, but maybe it was because of his hungry-looking eyes, giving him the constant look of a lost puppy.

He smiled sadly. "They both died when I was a child."

Meg apologised at once, feeling Sam's eyes burning on her. She wondered at his phrasing, thinking that he still looked very much like a child to her, but didn't want to risk another slip. Somehow the thought occurred to her that Beth would immediately adopt him into her infirmary of dolls when she heard of this, and it made her smile.

Encouraged by this, Frodo added: "My uncle raised me. I'm sure he would love to meet you all."

"He'd make a wonderful story about all of this, no doubt, Mr Frodo." Sam added eagerly, looking around with shining eyes, as if expecting said uncle to appear from behind the box tree.

"Is your uncle a writer?" Meg asked with interest, feeling that Jo would make much of this information.

"He is, Miss March." Sam answered, before Frodo could open his mouth. "He already wrote about his own adventures, and now what with the ring and us being here and-"

He stopped abruptly, Frodo having cried out a shocked "Sam!", and flushed up to his ears, muttering apologies. Meg looked at them in turns, feeling bewildered. She couldn't understand what had been so dangerous in his speech, but they looked positively mortified, as if just having revealed a terrible secret.

"I'm sure Jo will write about your stay here too. It's her dearest ambition to become an author, and I don't think we ever had a more fairytale-like adventure." Feeling the general discomfort, Meg tried to act as if she hadn't noticed anything.

Sam looked relieved at once, but Frodo continued to wear a shrewd expression in his big eyes for the remainder of their conversation.

Both felt more at their ease with Meg after this though, and their little meetings in the conservatory became, if not a habit, very welcome accidents. Meg relished in their descriptions of hobbit life, especially those of big feasts and the hobbit girls' dresses. To her surprise she didn't find the apparent lack of emphasised class boundaries as appalling as she might have some years back. It wasn't Concord, Massachusetts, after all, she told herself, it seemed more like a world out of one of Jo's stories. She once wondered what it might be like to live there herself, but she waved off the notion as silly at once.

She probably would have been very surprised to know that Frodo and Sam thought her the most hobbit-like of all the March sisters. Sam kept saying things like "Exactly like my sister!" or "Why, Mr Pippin's aunt couldn't have put it better herself!", and Frodo found it amazing how she seemed to be interested in any common-piece information about The Shire, from the furniture in Bag End to his family history.

Meg hardly realised how much of a welcome distraction these two had become to her, but she learned their habits and characters very well nevertheless. For example, she soon noticed that Sam was the most reliant person she had ever met (including Marmee!), but that he had rather a tendency to let down his guard when very comfortable. It came as no surprise therefore that she saw him sliding head first into another slip about that ominous secret of theirs, which seemed to include a ring, during dinner on Thursday evening, at the Laurences.

Everyone had been invited, and everyone had enjoyed themselves in their own fashion – Gimli had fallen into raptures at the sight of the delicious food and even declared it "almost as splendid as if dwarven-made!" and tugged in without further ado; Legolas had watched him happily for a while, before engaging Mr Brooke in a discussion about poetry, mixing up the verses of Schiller he had been given by him with bits from the Silmarillion in a very pretty fashion.

Beth had entreated to be spared the horror of such a great assembly, but had changed her mind, quite unaccountably, when Laurie had proposed the jolly scheme of setting her a table apart in the drawing room, right next to the piano, where she could delight the gathered guests with bits and pieces of music, whenever she had a hand to spare between mouthfuls of mashed potatoes and cherry pie, without the drawback of having to talk to them. The reality of this excellent plan, like most realities, looked rather different, for she forgot to eat altogether and seemed to mistake the black and white keys for nutriment, and soon many visitors found their way into her sanctuary, in between meals and during them, simply to listen or to consult her on important questions of life, such as what colour to choose for their next sewing project or whether to plant geraniums or petunias next spring; but for some reason nobody seemed to mind, least of all Beth herself.

Merry and Pippin were talking with their usual animation, no matter who was listening or not, and tried to demonstrate their juggling skills as after-dinner sensation, much to their own chagrin, since they learnt the literal hard way that books weren't exactly the most perfectly suited objects for this past-time. Aragorn realised half-way through the second course that he was actually enjoying Amy's special attentions in the form of talking to him in a strange jumble of made-up words and asking him questions about his necklace or lineage (giving him no time to connect one sentence to another before interrupting him), much to his own surprise. He tried to imagine what Arwen, Elrond, or Glorfindel would say if they could see him now, though soon gave this up, because he found it to be strangely interfering with his ability to properly swallow food without choking on it.

Jo and Laurie had their heads locked as usual and were giggling madly or uttering cries of indignation in turns, after which Jo would turn resolutely to Mr Laurence and start an angry conversation about insolent boys, while Laurie would turn with just as much determination to Gandalf, and ask him whether he knew any girls quite as horrible as the one sitting beside him. This would only last until someone had asked them to hand over the peas or butter, after which they'd forgotten the reason for their anger, and turn to each other again with good spirit and the mad giggling soon erupting again between them in no time.

Boromir seemed to have made it his heart-sworn duty to at least talk to every single person attending twice, for he kept getting up to put in a friendly word here and there, and shouting over the length of the table to comment on something said in an ongoing conversation - mostly without being heard, after which he'd retreat to Beth's sanctuary for a long while to recharge (and to remind her of eating). Meg was seated between Frodo and Sam, and tried to take part in other conversations every once in a while, before finding herself lost again in the details of the East Farthing's Spring fashion of last year or in the question of exactly how Frodo was related to Merry and Pippin (and on how many sides). Gandalf, who didn't nurture standards of socialising quite as utopian as Boromir, was content with having talked to everyone once, and then retreated to an armchair a little aside, to survey them all.

So everyone was, as described, enjoying themselves immensely, which was why Sam almost ended up mentioning their dangerous mission again, in an innocent enough conversation that had, originally, been about potato-growing. Meg had seen it coming for miles though, and so had had time enough to think of a rescue, which she undertook by faking a coughing fit before the taboo words could stumble out of Sam's mouth.

Little had she thought that this little service would grant her the honour of Gandalf taking her aside after dinner and thanking her personally.

"I would have intervened myself, if I hadn't been so far away from the action in my arm-chair." He said in a grave voice, but with a twinkle in his eyes. "It's a good thing someone as careful as Sam is helping him a bit with being careful." He added with a conspirational wink, chuckling at his own pun.

Before Meg could recover from this strange speech, Frodo had walked up to her and looked up at her gratefully.

"Thank you for helping out earlier," he told her earnestly. "I asked Gandalf if I could tell you the truth about the secret, but he said it would be better not to, because you had no such thing as magic in this world." He frowned to himself at the last bit, as if personally doubting this strange piece of information. "But nevertheless, you couldn't have helped us more if you actually knew what it was all about."

Meg thought it queer, walking home that evening, that she felt much happier than she ever had after any other dinner party on which she had received compliments for her looks or manners. Things got queerer still the next day, when she met Annie Moffat on the street and found herself telling her bewildered friend that her beautiful new lavender dress reminded her of the latest fashion in The Shire. What was most disturbing though, was the fact that she found herself not minding this so very much; even after seeing the look on Annie's face, which clearly spelt "You've gone crazy."

After this, Meg became as protective of Sam and Frodo as Sam was of Frodo alone, and it amused all members of the fellowship to see her act like their personal bodyguard and governess in one – often appearing more guarding of their secret than the ones who actually knew about it. Since she didn't know, everything and everyone could suddenly be seen as a threat by her. Instead of making Frodo feel more isolated though, it actually made him feel much more comfortable and included to have another person understand his situation – or at least believing that she did and thus making everyone else believe it as well.

Meg's guardianship was born from a natural wish to help, with only little additions of self-flattery, which didn't spoil the effect, but on the contrary made it more loveable. Her sisters instinctively knew not to interfere, for it was obvious how much better she was faring in this hard time ever since she had been rewarded the special place in the hearts of Frodo and Sam. Only once did Jo have to stop Amy from laughing out loud (by the insensitive method of throwing a pillow at her) at Sam formally telling Meg he'd see to it that she would be made Hobbit of Honour when he returned to The Shire. Meg thanked him with a blush and played it down in front of the girls, but Jo was not surprised when her grown-up sister asked her the very next day to try out the curling irons again.


	5. Chapter 5

Last chapter!:D I hope everyone reading this enjoyed it, and if so a review would be much appreciated.:3

 **Chapter 5 – True Colours**

All of her sisters seeming to have found some new form of comfort, Jo found herself more restless than ever. She told herself that it was no surprise looking at the situation, and that things would soon look up again. Meanwhile, her greatest consolation was Laurie – he often appeared more morose and moody than she could ever imagine herself to be, and it helped her a great deal to cheer someone else up.

"Aragorn teach you fencing? Why don't you ask Boromir? He already taught me some." Jo suggested one day as they were out walking on a rare day of sunshine; picking up a stray twig at once and practising her moves. "He also will talk for an hour together, if you let him." She added with a grin, for it was a tendency they shared.

"He's a nice fellow, only he does have the air of a mother hen sometimes, doesn't he?" Laurie observed thoughtfully, causing Jo to loose all her poise at once and fall into a laughing fit.

"He does coddle Beth and the little ones, as he calls them, but who can blame him? I don't think he would try to hatch _you_." And she began laughing afresh at the image.

"You can laugh, but I know what I'm talking about." Laurie replied, assuming the proud air of an injured gentleman. "The other day I was having some larks with Merry and Pippin, when he joined us. Pippin chatted away at once, of course, and when he told him about my ideas, he gave me a look that was so plainly disapproving as if it had been written on his forehead. He's more likely to keep you out of mischief than to join in it, that I'm sure of."

"Well, well." Jo answered, dying to tell the girls all about it. "You're surrounded by boring, prudent men, who do their best to spoil your fun, as I can see. But I wouldn't count on Aragorn for getting into scrapes with you, he seems so terribly wise sometimes."

"I don't want any of them to get into scrapes with me, just not to mind if I do. That's all." Laurie sighed, kicking some stray leaves on the pavement. "I wish I could have gone to Washington with your mother instead of Brooke, it would have done me well to no end, and I'd be more useful there too. This place rather seems too much like a prison sometimes." He kicked at the leaves again, looking mutinous.

Jo sobered at once, not liking to hear him speak of Washington – for one, it reminded her of all the worries she tried so hard to suppress, and then he always seemed to infect her with his rebel spirit, which made her more restless than ever. Only the other day she had managed to talk him out of leaving for Washington after a quarrel with his grandfather. But he still kept referring to this whenever he got angry. Nevertheless, she tried to keep handling it as a light matter. "I never heard of a prison with such jolly fellow-inmates. I'm sure you'd get lonely very soon if you broke out."

It was meant as a joke of course, but Laurie looked mischievous at once. "I wouldn't be alone, of course. I know you're dying to run away yourself, Jo."

"Don't, Teddy!" Jo flared up at once. "How often have I told you not to tease me about it? It's hard enough to try and be good without you awaking the devil in me."

Laurie laughed, at least his mood a bit lighter again. "You talk as if I just had proposed to you to sell your soul. It wouldn't hurt anyone, you know."

"Marmee would be terribly disappointed if I suddenly showed up at Washington, and what would Beth say? No, I must stay at home and be proper." Jo sighed, sounding more desperate to leave than ever, in spite of her words.

Weeks passed, and little did Jo think of being tested in her determination one evening, when she came home from Aunt March and found Boromir pacing up and down in the hall, looking like a troubled captain on board of his ship, as Jo thought.

All imaginative thoughts were driven from her mind though, when he told her, in a voice that barely kept out the accusatory undertone, about Beth almost having sneaked out to the Hummels that day, when he had kept her from doing so these last few days, and had told her to defer the duty to her older sisters, how he had gone there himself today, because Beth had looked so troubled on account of the sick baby, how the poor thing had died that very day, how the doctor had come, and now everyone was in danger of Scarlet Fever.

Jo hardly knew what to say, finding it hard to reflect on this flood of shocking facts, especially with Boromir staring at her as if he had personally caught her at poisoning Beth's tea. Fortunately, Meg came home from visiting the Gardiners that very moment and he poured his speech on her.

"Where is Beth? Is she sick?" Jo blurted out in the middle of his talk, having reached this point of crucial importance.

"No, the doctor says probably not, since she only went once without me knowing. But she might still infect someone else. I put her to bed nevertheless, she was so upset." _And it's all your fault_ , his eyes seemed to add. Meg seemed to want to retort something angry at this, but Jo groaned loudly and rushed upstairs immediately, barely catching Boromir ask Meg whether she had had the fever before.

Beth seemed well enough physically, relieving Jo's worst fear, but her sister's shaken emotional state only deepened her own sense of guilt. Beth was worried about everyone at once, imploring Jo to send Amy away this minute, repeatedly asking her if there really was no danger for her and Meg, and she kept bewailing her ignorance, saying she dared not think of what had happened if Boromir hadn't had the fever himself as a child, though obviously she had dared to think of this more than was good for her.

Hannah and Mr Laurence were consulted, and measures were taken immediately – the very first to send Amy to Aunt March. It would have been a much harder task if it hadn't been for the unusual visitors. Amy insisted that there was no need for her to go when no one of them actually was sick, and the most she was ready to do was to go and live with the Laurences and their guests, since _they_ didn't have to move to Aunt March either. Another consultation council was held hastily (in which Gandalf and Boromir rather rubbed elbows), with the result of Aragorn, Merry and Pippin agreeing to accompany Amy to her exile.

Meg had her doubts about Aunt March letting any strangers live with her, least of all such unusual ones, but Jo was in such an advanced state of guilt that she felt no challenge could be hard enough not to be tackled by her. However, in the end it was Aragorn who managed the miracle.

Aunt March was about to throw out the whole congregation that was standing in her parlour, notwithstanding Jo's passionate pleas, Meg's reasoning, and Amy's tears. Merry and Pippin didn't really further the cause either by chasing her parrot around the room. But then Aragorn asked to have a private word and to the astonishment of everyone assembled, she consented to their plan after their five minute talk.

"What on earth did he tell her?" Jo wondered out loud, as soon as they were out of the old manor.

"Maybe he told her about his lady, the beautiful elven princess, and it moved her heart." Meg pondered, with a sudden and dramatic return to her old romancing.

"I rather think he might have threatened her." Jo proposed with a snort at Meg's outburst. "She'd buy it without a doubt, she basically thinks any man with long hair is bound to be a pirate."

Anxious days followed, but the doctor had been right and Beth had only caught a common cold, not Scarlet Fever. Jo nursed her tenderly, but noticed that instead of easing her feelings of guilt, it only increased her restlessness.

One evening, exhausted from tending to Beth and housework, Jo had just collapsed into her favourite easy chair, when Meg came into the parlour, looking unusually grim.

"I think I should send that telegram to Marmee now." She announced to a bewildered Jo.

"What?" Jo was up in an instant. "Why? We averted the crisis, didn't we?"

"You know full well that that's not our own doing, it's sheer luck – more than we deserve, I dare say." Meg shot her sister a sharp look, the likes of which Jo couldn't remember ever having been the recipient of. "And it's all just because we thought that we were in control and "averting a crisis", as you call it. We should have told Marmee from the start and asked her advice."

Jo felt as if punched into the stomach. That was exactly what she had been trying not to think. "Well, telling her now won't do any good!" She shouted, trying to cover up her hurt, but starting to cry despite of herself.

She wanted to say much more, but suddenly found herself rushing out of the room, out of the house, and straight over to Laurie. She never could quite explain her behaviour afterwards, thinking that she had acted like one of the heroines in her story (and not finding it romantic at all). Usually she would have been much too proud to let her best friend see her cry, but something had broken and she needed to be with someone who understood what was going on inside of her.

Laurie almost fell from his chair in surprise when Jo burst into his room unannounced, but he recovered quickly and proved his sense of tact by never once pointing out to Jo that she was still wearing her slippers. After managing to calm her somewhat, Laurie certainly wasn't prepared to hear her say the next words.

"Laurie. I think we should run away."

Laurie stared at her. Jo was staring at the carpet, her eyes puffy and red, but with a determined glint in them nevertheless.

"I thought you had resolved to be prim and proper?" He told her, trying to remind her of her resolutions through his old, teasing manner.

"There's no use, it's impossible." Jo told him darkly. At any other time, Laurie would have laughed out loud at this, but he could tell that she was serious. "So will you come with me? It was your plan after all."

"Won't Beth miss you?" Laurie asked, finding himself almost scared of Jo's sudden change of mind and playing for time, though he didn't know why.

"Would she? I dare say she would have at any other time, but now she's so taken with that-" She struggled for words for a moment. "With that _omnibus_ of a man, one doesn't know what to think any more. He'll be keeping her company, no doubt." Jo answered, trying to be amused, but only sounding more frustrated because of it.

"You're jealous!" Laurie burst out, more out of surprise than to tease Jo. He didn't need to ask whom she meant though, he had seen her hidden glances of ill will once or twice.

"I am not!" Jo snapped, sounding a bit more like she usually did in that moment. "In fact, I am grateful. Now I don't have to worry about Beth being alone, so I can actually make up my mind to go!"

Laurie looked at her with a strange expression of mingled surprise and sadness. He wondered whether he was to blame for this, often having wished for Jo to change her mind and go on an adventure with him. His doleful look irked Jo, so she got up with a jerk and went over to his desk, ransacking the drawer, in which she knew he still kept the maps and time tables of the train station.

"We can still make the 9:24 if we hurry." She presently said, eyes on the schedule. "That way we'd drive through the night, which would be most comfortable, I dare say."

"What about your things?" Laurie asked before he could wonder why he was so bent on continuing to mention obstacles.

"I don't need them. Your wardrobe is extensive enough, I think." Jo told him matter-of-factly.

Laurie goggled at her. "My- my wardrobe?"

A wicked grin appeared on Jo's face. "I said it wasn't proper for me to go, since I'm a girl, so I'll just go as a boy. It will make everything much easier, I'm sure."

Laurie kept staring as if she had gone mad. "You're crazy." He announced, but a hint of admiration stole itself into it nevertheless.

Jo laughed at his expression. "Thank you."

Won over after all and put back into his mode of mischief, Laurie soon helped Jo to pick a suit of his and to pack everything he thought they might need, while she put on the clothes in the bathroom. When she came back, he couldn't believe his eyes.

"You could pass as my cousin!" He exclaimed.

"It was a good thing I cut my hair after all." Jo stated with satisfaction, though still running her hand through her bob-cut with a slightly nostalgic air.

Within a quarter of an hour they had stolen out of the house and were halfway to the station. They went without speaking, both aware of the importance of their decision. Only once did Jo break the silence of the silvery December night, to mutter that she hoped her letter to her sisters would explain everything well enough.

Jo never understood later on how easy it all was – buying the tickets, walking onto the platform, getting onto the train – it seemed like a dream.

"Don't worry, your mother will forgive you on the spot when she sees your penitent face. And she will even more after you explained everything that has happened since she went away." Laurie told her, after they had found a compartment to themselves, and Jo was looking out of the window with a tragic expression. She didn't reply, but continued to stare with a frown.

After a few hours, Jo realised that she had been wrong. She had imagined travelling by night as meaning that you slept and when you woke up, the train had arrived. But the seats were uncomfortable to sleep in, even without a troubled mind that refused to take a break. She glanced at Laurie, who was sleeping with his head against the window. Sighing, she tried to find a more comfortable position, but only managed to get even more awake. Maybe it hadn't been such a great idea after all.

The morning sun crept over the horizon and fell into Jo and Laurie's compartment in one, big sweep of gold, as the train took a bend. Jo groaned, awaking from her light and ill sleep at once. Laurie woke up from her complaining, silently wondering whether she would be this grumpy throughout their time in Washington.

"It's too early. We still have hours left until we arrive!" Jo exclaimed with horror as she took a look at Laurie's watch.

"You should have kept silent then and gone back to sleep." Laurie muttered.

"It's not my fault these seats were built to give you nightmares." Jo shot back, her bad temper not having subsided over night.

Laurie was about to reply, but was silenced by the arrival of an old member of the railway staff, who asked if they were interested in breakfast. The latter softening their tongues, they managed to go back to sleep and awoke to the same old woman opening their compartment door and announcing that they had arrived.

Jo jumped up, looking wild. She looked as if she had only now realised that she had been on a journey to Washington.

"Calm down." Laurie told her, patting her shoulder. "It's supposed to be fun, remember?"

Jo gave him a look that clearly said that she did not remember this, and stalked out of the compartment, leaving Laurie to bring the luggage. He was having serious doubts of how this was to continue, but was determined to make the best of it.

On the platform he had a hard time finding Jo at first, but the sound of two familiar voices soon let him in the right direction. Coming closer, he couldn't believe what he saw – there was Jo, standing open-mouthed and staring down at two boys...

"...and I said to Pip, didn't I, Pip; we can sort this out, can't we? We've been on harder missions, like sneaking into a top-secret council, for example."

"Or getting Aragorn to wash his hair."

"Or convincing farmer Maggot that we were sampling his carrots by order of the mayor."

"Or getting Boromir to tell us what was going on last night."

"No, Pip, that wasn't hard at all. Getting Boromir to tell you something is like getting a kitten to drink milk."

"True enough, that. Except for the time we asked him to tell us about what Mordor was like. He acted all weird back then, remember?"

"Yeah, you're right. That was weird. But the exception proves the rule, that's what I always say. Don't you agree, Pip?"

"Quite."

Laurie joined Jo in staring. Merry and Pippin were chatting away happily in front of them, apparently completely unaware of the strangeness of the situation.

"How'd you get here?" Laurie finally got out, still disbelieving his senses.

"We flew!" Pippin exclaimed happily, but getting slapped by Merry at once.

"Ssh! We promised Gandalf not to tell!" He whispered to his cousin.

"You flew?" Jo repeated, looking more confused than Laurie had ever seen her.

"Nah, how could we have?" Merry tried, but Jo and Laurie insisted until they told them the truth. Though it still seemed impossible to them that Gandalf had actually contacted eagles and persuaded them to carry Merry and Pippin to Washington.

"But remember, don't tell anyone! You don't know what Gandalf's like when he's angry!" Merry implored, and kept repeating it many times later on.

Slowly, and with many confusing side tales, Merry and Pippin told them of what had happened last night after they had left. Apparently Mr Laurence had wanted to speak with Laurie for some trivial reason, but getting no answer from him, had entered his room and found the explanation letter. Having rushed over to the Marches at once, everyone had gotten into an uproar. Most importantly, Meg had left immediately, mumbling something about a telegram.

"And luckily Boromir had just been over and about to go out and visit us, so when he arrived at the manor we knew at once that something was wrong. I could tell at first sight that he was worried, because he was kneading his "Bold Boromir"-handkerchief in his hand-"

"Bold Boromir?" Laurie interrupted Merry's account with a laugh. "I thought it stood for "Beth's Boromir".

"I thought it stood for "belongs to Boromir"." Pippin threw in with a blink.

Jo had her own interpretation of the initials, but didn't think it advisable to elaborate on it.

"We first thought about dashing after you on our own," Merry continued. "But on second thought Gandalf's help seemed to be the more comfortable and faster solution."

"That telegram will be faster than us too." Jo turned to Laurie suddenly, having realised this. "Mother will know we're coming!" Somehow this prospect scared her more than anything else had during the last night.

"Ahem." Merry cleared his throat importantly, gaining back the attention of Jo and Laurie. "I got a message for you from Meg. She says now that you're there you should go and see mother and father, but come back home immediately afterwards."

Jo huffed, feeling more like herself than she had done in what seemed like an eternity. "I'll leave that for mother to decide, thank you very much."

Maybe Meg had been wise enough to know that these words would impassion and encourage Jo to go their parents at once, at any rate this was the effect that they had. Laurie followed her with a bemused face, making sure that Merry and Pippin kept close.

Mrs March'es scolding was by far less severe than Jo had feared, especially since (unbeknownst to her) Beth had persuaded Meg to let her add a line to the telegram, asking for mercy on behalf of the two culprits (she had the feeling that this was somehow her fault – not knowing exactly how or why this was possible, but not being any less certain for that). This had made Mrs March laugh, and since she had just gotten a piece of good news from the doctor that morning, she was in the mood to see any failings of her little women in a most forgiving light, the heavy sorrows and burdens of the last month still fresh on her mind. She even had to admit to herself that she was very glad to see her Jo at this place of worry and hope, feeling that her boisterous spirit gave it a healthier air than any flowers or perfumes could.

Laurie waited with Merry and Pippin until they were called inside to Mr March'es room. The adults made big eyes at the queer little boys, but after watching them for two minutes or so, soon deduced their easy and childlike behaviour and quickly settled into a comfortable and familiar manner with them, quite forgetting about their mysterious background and occasional strange expressions. Events and stories were exchanged, some with tears, but most with laughter. One of the biggest laughs occurred when Mr Brooke came back from an errand and almost stumbled over Pippin, who had sat down in front of the door. He almost threw out the "insolent boy", before a surprised Mrs March, a giggling Laurie, an indignant Jo, and a Mr March, filling the room with loud, healthy laughter, could explain.

After all news and explanations had been exchanged, they devised to send a telegram back to Concord. Brooke dispatched it, and it arrived that very night, relieving everyone's mind. Jo and Laurie were allowed another day to enjoy themselves in Washington, on account of their good influence on the invalid. Glowing with the secret promise of her father returning home to them sooner than expected, Jo travelled back much more comfortable than she could have believed possible after her first train ride. The entertaining presence of Merry and Pippin added a lot to this as well, making it seem much shorter than the way there.

Jo got a bit nervous about facing Meg during the last miles, but found her worry, as so often, to be needless the moment she saw her sister's face on their arrival. No words were said, but a long hug expressed everything that needed to be shared. Even Mr Laurence couldn't find it in him to be angry at his grandson, occasioning him to leave the room abruptly on account of "the dust in his eyes".

Anyone else still left with a sad tear in their eye was cheered up immediately by Merry and Pippin's account of their journey; Jo's personal favourite part being their description of how they had left Aragorn and Amy "knitting happily". She had her doubts whether the happiness had resided in fact on both sides.

Another week brought their mother home to them, making Jo exclaim that "almost everything" had gone back to normal, finally. She wouldn't have minded to have the company stay of course, but to everyone's surprise Gandalf had announced their departure on the same evening that Mrs March arrived on.

Everyone found themselves saddened by this news, some with surprise, some without. Meg tried to use her good favour with Frodo and Sam to weedle out of them how exactly they would return to their native land, but, as she told Jo afterwards, the only thing she had got were cryptichints about Mr Laurence and something about blue wizards. The only revealed secret had been Aragorn's mysterious persuasion of Aunt March.

"What did he do?" Jo sat up straight like a flash, thrilled to get to the bottom of one mystery at least.

Meg waved her hand in disappointment at the prosaic revelation. "He gave her the green ring he carried."

Jo sighed, falling back into the fluffy depths of her arm-chair. "No doubt she'll be happy about the bargain, since she gave the turquoise one she had to Amy. I don't know what it is with some people and rings."

After this draw-back, Jo tried to get Beth to use some Merry-and-Pippin-tactics on Boromir, remembering their words about him in Washington, but Beth refused point black. Not much surprised, Jo tried it herself, but soon gave it up as a bad job, understanding what Laurie had meant when he had talked about Boromir having something written on his forehead.

"For being as talkative as a waterfall, he can also be annoyingly like a rock when he wants to." Jo grumbled, sitting down on the front porch next to Aragorn, who had just lighted his evening pipe. He gave her a look that she didn't know whether to read as understanding or bored, so she shut up for the moment.

After some moments of silence, in which Jo felt herself becoming itchy already, Aragorn said: "It really is better for you not to know about our means to get back. Knowing about the eagles is too much already."

Jo was astounded. "How do you know I know?"

"Pippin." He merely said without looking at her, as if this explained everything.

Jo sank back into silence, starting to resign herself not to be cheered up by anything. Just then Beth came back from the garden, having gone on a most daring mission, namely to scavenge the last and first flowers as parting tokens for their friends. Jo pointed out to her that she would have been much more successful in the Laurence's conservatory, but Beth muttered something about effort and meaning. Then Aragorn casually mentioned that Boromir's favourites definitely were roses, causing the little brown hood to disappear in direction of the manor with supernatural speed, unconnected words of Laurie and a borrowed book left hanging in the air.

Jo pulled a face and muttered, more to herself than Aragorn: "I'll have a hard enough time dealing with her gloom once he's gone, but I bet he'll forget her soon enough."

Aragorn gave a shrewd look, not saying anything, but making Jo blush and bubble. "Not that I'm ungrateful! I mean, she's obviously not as shy as before and he was a great help during that fever-affair, god knows he looked out for her better than we did." She sighed heavily after that, thinking that she'd never get over the shame of it. "And it really was so lucky that he had the fever himself as a child, Beth was so worried."

"He lied." Aragorn stated.

"What?" Jo couldn't make out what he meant, having been completely lost in her own troubled thoughts, but his calm manner unsettled her more than ever.

"There is no such thing as a Scarlet Fever in all of Middle Earth, and certainly not in Gondor." He elaborated slowly, taking the pipe out of his mouth for this purpose. "I've been there often enough. Boromir didn't have the fever no more than anyone else of us did."

Jo stared at Aragorn as if he had started talking in an unearthly tongue, but he didn't seem to find any of this at all surprising. She then grabbed the banister for support, moving as stiff as a puppet and looking as if she had just swallowed a box of chalk, both judging from the colour of her face and the contortion of her mouth.

Aragorn watched her with no apparent signs of alarm, but waited until Meg had come out to join them, before he got up and went over to the Laurences without a word.

"What's the matter?" Meg exclaimed at once, seeing her sister in apparent shock.

"Nothing." Jo croaked, sounding as if she had swallowed a frog along with the chalk. "I'm fine."

"Jo, what-" Meg started again, but Jo had gotten up abruptly and declared with a wild look that she had to get back a borrowed book from Laurie, before stalking off.

Boromir certainly never had received so many flowers in his life. What was most surprising though, was that most of them were delivered by a flushing Jo, who looked as though she had marched straight into Mordor. Having no idea as to what cause he was owing this honour, but feeling that some sign of gratitude was desirable, he thanked her and told her just how good a nurse she had been and that a place among the noted healers in the Houses of Healing would have been sure to her, had she been born in Minas Tirith. Jo only understood half of this in her frenzied state, but thanked him with all her heart for having touched the sore spot with some healing balm without knowing.

Everyone was exchanging parting gifts and hugs, and it was a general chaos of smiles and tears once more. Among the most noteworthy gifts were Amy giving up her turquoise ring to Aragorn, modestly asking him to make it an heirloom of his house. Beth had composed a song in honour of the company, which she not only played at the parting ceremony, but had trained Boromir to memorise, and which he had promised her would become a popular tune in all of Gondor. In turn he had taught her several Gondorian folk songs, with which she haunted the house ever after. Meg made Sam incomprehensibly happy by presenting him with a good, strong rope, having gotten the mysterious tip from Frodo. The latter received her most prized scrapbook picture in possession, which everyone found strange except Frodo, for he had instantly fallen in love with the image of the little flower fairy when Meg had showed them her scrapbook some weeks ago. Jo had poured all her heart into a huge, delicious blancmange, which even provided for the second helpings of the hobbits. Laurie and his grandfather provided them with new winter coats, while Mrs March and Hannah had worked for days on preserved supplies.

The company on their part had stuck their heads together and come up with a tree house. Situated on two of the tall cedars in the Laurence garden, Aragorn and Legolas had put all their knowledge of elvish architecture into it. The interior had been mostly provided with furniture from the Laurence attic, with little self-made objects from the company scattered around the room. The key to it (iron-wrought by Gimli at the local smithy) was presented to Jo with great solemnity, greatly endangering her in terms of shedding tears. To her relief, Merry and Pippin ruined the moment's magnificence by accidentally setting off one of Gandalf's special made fireworks.

At long last, the Marches and Laurences watched the retreating forms of the nine companions blend in with the shadows of the forest, with much looking back and waving. Jo thought back to the day on which she had first encountered Pippin on the very same spot and smiled.


End file.
